After The Book
by Mae Snapdragon
Summary: Soul's secret is out: Maka has realized how much he looked like her in the Lust chapter of the Book of Eibon, and the distance between them is greater than ever. Is there anything Soul can do to close the gap?


**Seriously. This had to be written. How can she not have noticed?**

**I do not own Soul Eater.**

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><p>He should have known this would happen.<p>

"Oi, Maka, where are you going? Food's going to be ready in five minutes—"

The girl smoothly cut him off, wrenching the front door open.

"I'll be back later. Don't wait up for me."

The door clicked shut behind her and Soul glared at the wood as though he could burn through it. After a moment of silence, he glanced down at the pot of curry he was stirring, and flicked the stove off with a surge of disgust.

"It's going to be cold by the time you get back, idiot," he grumbled. He moved the pot off the burner and slumped down in one of the chairs at the table, his forehead slamming against the surface.

"Fuuuuccckk," he moaned.

There was a slight swish of fur, and he heard the small pad of paws against the tabletop, but he couldn't be bothered to raise his head.

"Soul-kun must've done something really bad, nya," came the expected meow. "Maka-chan has been avoiding him for a week!"

"Blair," Soul spat out through gritted teeth. "Could you please go and seduce Maka's dad right now or something?"

The cat pouted, then leaped over his head onto the windowsill.

"Fine then," she said sulkily. "It's no fun to tease Soul-kun when he's acting like this anyway."

He heard a slight creak of hinges, and then a cool wash of air swept over his neck. Blair must've slipped out the window again.

He raised his head slightly, contemplating actually eating the food he had made, but it somehow seemed like too much effort all of a sudden. He closed his eyes and ground the heels of his hand into his eyelids. It hurt a little bit, and he liked that.

This was all his damn fault.

Much as he hated it, Blair was right. Maka had been avoiding him for a week. Everything had been fine at first. They'd gotten back from rescuing Kid from the Book of Eibon, and for a few days it had all been normal. Soul had almost let himself believe that she didn't know, that she somehow hadn't realized it. But then, out of the blue, she started making excuses to avoid him, staying late at Tsubaki's house, studying at the library more, leaving early in the morning for school before he'd even woken up.

She must have finally gone over it in her mind. Maybe someone had told her about how Tsubaki was the most perverted of them all and she had thought back, remembered everyone's appearance in the Lust chapter. And when she remembered what his appearance and personality had been like, she must've understood suddenly.

In that chapter, you were transformed into whatever attracted and enticed you in the opposite sex. Soul had been turned into a thin girl with a lithe, slightly boyish frame, and longish hair. He had also been bossy and dismissive of men who got nosebleeds from women with huge boobs.

In short, Soul had been almost exactly like Maka herself.

He just wanted her to say something about it. Was she avoiding him because she hated him, hated the idea that he wanted her, or was she just afraid to turn him down?

He had to talk to her.

Stupid book. Stupid fucking chapter of Lust!

Stupid him.

This was so uncool.

His head jerked up at a sudden clicking noise, and he looked over to see Maka standing in the doorway. Their eyes met, scarlet against green, and she sucked in a tiny breath through her teeth.

"I just forgot something," she mumbled, casting her gaze away from him, her voice cold. She strode across the room, reaching for the jacket lying crumpled on the counter, and as Soul's eyes followed her, he found himself speaking.

"You're avoiding me because of the book, aren't you?"

She froze, her fingers inches from the coat.

It suddenly all became incredibly clear to Soul: he had a choice right now. Either he said "never mind" and tried to pretend that he hadn't meant anything, or he confronted her, told her, and maybe ruined it all for good.

But there wasn't really a choice when it came down to it, was there?

"I'm not going to apologize," he said, his voice low.

It was as if the words had jolted her back to life, and she seized the jacket, swivelling on her heel to escape.

"I don't know what—"

He shot up from the table, his longer strides crossing the room in two steps, his hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her up short before she could reach the door.

"Yes, you do know what I'm talking about,"

They breathed in tandem, sharp and nervous.

"No, I really don't," she retorted. The chill from her tone was gone; now there was only the trepidation she had been trying to hide.

"Then look at me," he insisted.

"No."

"Why not?"

She abruptly wrenched her arm away and spun around, glaring up at him.

"I don't know why you're trying to keep me," she spat. "But I have places to—"

He stepped forward and swept his arms around her, crushing her to his chest and tucking his face into the curve of her neck. She stiffened, and he could feel her pulse thrumming against his cheek.

"Don't say anything for a second," he ordered. "Just listen."

Her arms fell to her sides, but she didn't make any attempt to get away.

"I know you're freaking out because my form in the Lust chapter was like you," he whispered. "But I can't apologize for that, because the damn book was right. I..."

He trailed off as he realized that she was shaking. He felt something wet touch his cheek, and he pulled back slightly to see that tears were streaking down her face, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to keep them back.

"Shit, Maka!" he hissed. "I'm sorry if you don't want to hear this, but I'm going to say it before I leave, okay?'

She shook her head frantically, eyes flying open.

"You don't get it!" she suddenly yelled, her hands sweeping up to fist in the front of his shirt.

"Then help me get it!"

She let out a strange sound, halfway between a scream of despair and a sigh of exasperation and rested her forehead against his shirt, speaking to the floor.

"I saw what happened with my Mama and Papa," she choked out. "They were just like us once, just partners, but then it all fell apart and look at them now! We work well together, we should be happy with that. I can't be stupid, even if I want to be..."

Want?

"This can't happen, Soul," she said. "It can't work..."

All he could register was the way she said his name. There was a note there that he'd never heard, and it shot into his veins like fire.

He had to show her.

Soul slid his hand under her chin, tipping it up so she was looking at him.

"Shut up, Maka," he muttered, right before his mouth collided with hers.

Her back hit the wall. His hands pressed against her hips, thumbs digging into the groove above her hipbones. A haze had filled his head, and it had something to do with his lips on hers, pressing, coaxing. Her surprise seemed to last for only a fraction of a second; a tiny, helpless noise slipped from her throat, and then her hands were twisting in his hair, clutching across his shoulders. His tongue was in her mouth. He was sucking on her bottom lip and she was panting. Her fingernails cut into his skin, and he liked that. Her taste was making his thoughts grow fuzzy. There was a tingling at the edge of his soul and he could feel her so close to him, like they were resonating. They were being messy, mouths open and gliding over each other's, tongues battling. Images and colours were swirling behind his closed eyelids, red streaks streaming through his torso to pool in the pit of his stomach.

She drew back with a gasp, hooded eyes gazing into his. Tears tracks were still there on her cheeks, and he absently leaned forward to lick one off, hearing her breathing hitch.

"Soul," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look straight at her. "We don't know what we're doing."

"I know what I'm doing," he replied. "Do you?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and Soul knew in that second. She had meant it when she kissed him back. Whatever she said was to cover that up, and the knowledge swelled up in his chest like a balloon. He wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he wanted to forget about being cool and cry out of happiness.

"But..." she said quietly. "I can't..."

He stepped back from her, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt and abruptly pulling it over his head, tossing it on the ground behind him. Her eyes widened in surprise, and he took her wrist, pressing her hand against his bare chest, her fingers on the jagged scar stretching across his torso.

"I know you don't like looking at this," he said. "But this scar is for you. I didn't know it consciously then, but I was showing it when I protected you. I am not your Papa. I'd give my life for you, not just because you're my meister, but because you're Maka. I won't do what he did."

She didn't speak, but her hand flattened against his skin, slowly tracing the edges of the scar. He shivered under her questing fingers, unable to bring himself to tighten his grip on her wrist and stop her.

"You didn't notice," she said, the edge of her mouth quirking up in a tiny smile. "In the Lust chapter, you yelled at me for getting a nosebleed over that succubus, but you didn't realize that I was being just like you."

His heart stuttered in his chest. He had never thought about how Maka had acted, too caught up in worrying that his female form would give himself away.

"I wonder why you're different," she murmured, scanning his face. "Why is it that I feel like I can trust you?"

"Because you can."

And this time she was the one to pull him to her, and somehow it was even better. There was a sun exploding in his body from every touch of her fingers, a crazy shock shooting down his spine when she tugged on the waistband of his pants to pull him closer. If there was a way to speak without words, this was it: he deepened the kiss, trying to somehow pour into it everything that he'd ever felt for her. Could she taste it on his lips? Could she hear it in the rasp of his breath?

Fuck. If she didn't get it now, it didn't matter. He had a long time to show her.

She was smiling under his mouth, and when he pulled away she grinned up at him.

"Mine," she said.

The fear wasn't gone. But she was giving this a chance.

"Yours," he agreed.

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><p><strong>They did eventually eat the curry. It was SUPER GOOD. <strong>


End file.
